


Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

by Siamese_and_Cookies



Series: Psalm 23:4 [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Deputy and Pratt become good friends, Explicit Language, Fun times at the precinct, Joey is done with Pratt's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siamese_and_Cookies/pseuds/Siamese_and_Cookies
Summary: Many years after that fateful day, Eleanor Rook has finally graduated from her police academy and moved to Hope County to follow in her father's footsteps. The County is quiet and the work is fun but trouble is brewing in the County, on levels that no one could possibly imagine.(Part 2 of 3)
Relationships: Deputy | Judge & Staci Pratt, Female Deputy | Judge & Earl Whitehorse
Series: Psalm 23:4 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733287
Comments: 15
Kudos: 43





	1. Deputy Rook Reporting for Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!
> 
> If you're new to this series, I'd **recommend** you read the first part, as quite a bit of this won't make sense, especially going forward into the third part. 
> 
> If you're an old reader, welcome back! Rook's an adult now! They all are! And more importantly, I can finally write about my favourite pyromaniac! 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Eleanor Rook took a deep breath in as she looked at herself in the dusty, cracked mirror. 

The same image she saw every day stared back at her. Her eyes, the same ones as always, stared back at her. Her skin was ashy and wane, the skin underneath her eyes dark and sagging from nights of little to no sleep, thin green veins webbing across her eyelids until she was more ghoul than human. Her hair had more grey in it than she realised - she'd probably have to dye them. Maybe blonde would work.

Eleanor brought a hand up, slow and sluggish, and traced along the thing, bright pink line underneath her left cheek. A reminder, one she wished she didn’t have. Her reflection copied her, matching the blank expression down to the twitch of her dark brow.

Her hand dropped down to the badge that stood proud on her chest, bright against the dark green over-shirt. The County Sheriff’s Department didn’t have the kind of funding to throw around for vanity, so the uniform Eleanor had gotten was a _one-size-fits-some_ and fit her looser in some areas and tighter in others. But that didn’t matter, didn’t even cross her mind really as she stared at the twinkling badge that proclaimed she upheld the law. A bonafide deputy of Hope County.

There was a pang in her chest. Eleanor wished, above all else, that her parents were around so they could see her now. Her father would have cried and yelled at them if they mentioned it. Her mother -

A shrill beeping began and Eleanor rushed to turn the alarm off on her phone. She had kept that in case she overslept. That hadn’t been an issue at all, in fact, Eleanor hadn’t gotten _any_ sleep.

With a cursory check to make sure her hair was secure in the hasty bun she had thrown it into, Eleanor turned and walked out of her dorm room. 

It was a temporary solution until she had ended her probationary period at the Department and could afford adequate lodging. She had gone house hunting yesterday after she’d arrived and had her eye on a few key pieces of land. 

The one that had stolen her heart was a little cabin by the Henbane River that had a criminally low rent and a beautiful view of everything that the County had to offer. And with the low rent, Eleanor would be able to save enough for a decent car, which was great considering how far away the cabin was from just about everything - the Department included.

A conversation from a long time back surfaced in her mind as Eleanor began the walk from her dorm to the police department. Of Earl Whitehorse and her parents, many, _many_ years back. Of Hope County and it’s infinite beauty. And as Eleanor cast a look around, she believed him. Her parents never could visit the County for vacation and Eleanor realised how much they had missed out on. 

The walk was a short one and she had only just been starting to properly immerse herself in the natural beauty all around her, the chirping of the birds and the gentle rustling of the trees, when the doors of the department were before her and she found her legs had stopped working just outside them.

“Come on, Rook,” she muttered to herself when her legs continued to disobey her, “You’ve got this. You’ve managed worse.”

It was a small blessing no one was around to witness her momentary cowardice. 

Eleanor took a deep breath in and took her first steps into her first ever Department.

The precinct was a lot smaller than any of the ones her father had worked in, but the layout was familiar enough considering how much time she had spent in them during her youth. Eleanor checked herself in with a kid, older woman named Nancy who was also the dispatch caller. Just like her father had done everyday up until his retirement.

With her presence duly noted, she turned around, ready to find her desk amongst the conglomeration of others in the bullpit. Her _own_ bullpit, where she’d be familiar with everyone and their inane gossip. 

Turning her eyes this way and that, Eleanor’s sense promptly abandoned her and her legs froze once more.

“Well, if it isn’t Eleanor Rook. The last time I saw you, you were just a little tike. When did you get so big?”

She was supposed to smile then. Her lips moved and she hoped it didn’t look like a grimace, “Hi, Uncle Earl.”

Earl gave her a brief, tight, warm, comforting hug before letting her go and clapping her once on the shoulder. He had a massive smile on his face - one his ever-impressive mustache wasn’t able to hide and a twinkle in his eye that Eleanor had sorely missed over the many years they had been apart. 

Earl had shown up to the funeral, but that day had been a blur for Eleanor. The preparations and the will and the legalities. He had helped out as much as he could, offering her emotional support while he was there, but he had a job as a Sheriff and he hadn’t been able to hang around forever. Eleanor had been a legal adult when they passed, but she was still far too young. Earl had done his best, she would never say he hadn’t. But it just wasn’t the same when he was hundreds of miles away.

“How’s your heart doing?”

His heart attack following his messy divorce three years after her parent’s demise had been scary but Eleanor had been preoccupied abroad at the time and hadn’t been able to help him. She found that to be a recurring theme in her life - she was never around for people when they needed her.

“Just fine, Chickadee.” His smile dropped into something bittersweet, “Well, I can’t even call you “Chickadee” anymore, now can I?”

“Not unless you want me to report you for harassment. That term is outdated, Sheriff, get with the times.”

Whitehorse’s expression dropped comically as they both turned to face a shaggy haired man with a smug looking smile on his face.

“Ellie, this is Staci Pratt, your partner.”

He held his hand out, “You can just call me Staci.”

She took it.

“Rook.”

“I haven’t called anyone that in a long time,” Whitehorse murmured.

Eleanor understood. It had been something she had debated about with herself for a while. But ultimately, she understood that she had to do it. For herself. And her father. 

“I want to carry dad’s name on, carry on his legacy I guess.”

“He’d be real proud of you, Chick- _Deputy_. Old bastard wouldn’t shut up about how happy he was anytime I called when you said you were going to follow in his footsteps. Half our conversations was just him boasting about you, I swear to God.”

The smile that was spreading across Eleanor’s face was genuine and painful.

Staci cleared his throat.

“This is heartwarming, it really is, but you’re monopolising my partner, Whitehorse, and I don’t appreciate it.” Staci winked over at her, “Come on, Probie, I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

“Mind yourself, Pratt,” Whitehorse called as Staci led the way back up the steps, Eleanor in reluctant tow.

Instead of taking her on a tour of the department, Staci made his way out of the precinct and towards the car park. When Eleanor asked, he simply said it was a tradition to treat the new Rookie to a cup of coffee. And it wasn’t until they were strapped in and cruising down the quiet roads of Helena that he began to speak properly. 

“So,” he said, his tone cheery, “Seems like you and Whitehorse know each other.”

“He was my dad’s partner quite a few years back. Before he transferred to Hope County and became Sheriff. He was “Uncle Earl” to me most my life, but now looks like he’s going to be “Sheriff”.”

“That’s pretty sweet. Where’s your dad now? Retired? Or still working the field?”

“He’s dead.”

Silence.

Staci swallowed audibly, his voice small, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, uh, _shit_.”

“It’s fine. I - well, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry - _shit_ I must have sounded like an absolute asshole earlier.” He turned to look at her, his mouth pulled back into a grimace, “Which is fair cause - damn me and my big mouth.”

“It’s fine,” Eleanor repeated, “Though yeah, you really did, I won’t lie. I was almost worried for a second.”

He let out a weak, awkward laugh, glancing over at her once.

“Yeah, that’s totally fair. But don’t worry, I swear, I can be annoying but I’m not like an _actual_ asshole. I’m not racist or sexist or elitist or whatever other ist there is. Scout’s honour.”

She grinned at that. No, she didn’t think he was.

“So, hey uh,” He cleared his throat, “quick topic change. Why Montana of all places? We aren’t exactly popular for much aside from the mountains and the animals. And maybe the prepper fenatics.”

It had been a question Eleanor had asked herself as well throughout her trip towards Montana. Was she running away again? Or running towards something? She wasn’t sure just yet.

“A fresh start.”

“Is that so? Well, Rook, if there’s any place that could offer you one hell of a fresh start, it’s here. This state - this county? You won’t regret coming here.”

Eleanor - _Rook_ \- cracked a smile as they parked near a small diner and Staci got out.

“No,” she said to herself, almost starting to believe it, “I don’t think I will.”


	2. A Day to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys go; hope you enjoy!

“Heya, Nancy,” Pratt called out as he strode into the precinct, a good half hour late and not even ashamed of it.

“You’re late, Staci,” Nancy replied when he passed by her, “Do it one more time and Whitehorse is going to have a _talk_ with you.”

“You know how I love ‘talks’ with Earl. Also, by the way, nice ice. Is that a real Rolex? Didn't know you could afford that on a Deputy's salary, maybe I should cut back on drinks at the Spread Eagle."

"It was a gift, Pratt. Now get moving."

"Fine, fine. Yo, Probie, how you doing?”

Rook was already at her desk - same as the other officers - typing away a report on a minor kerfuffle that had happened yesterday at the bar in Fall’s End. It was more of a noise complaint than anything else, but Rook had to write everything down - especially with Staci being no help. This was a part of policing neither her father nor Whitehorse had prepared her for. It wasn’t all fast car chases and show-downs with nasty perps. Actually, it wasn’t that at _all_. She wondered if 33 was too late for a career-change. 

“I’m doing just fine, Staci. Though I’d be doing better if you actually showed up on time and didn’t leave me with all the paperwork. We’re partners for a reason.”

“Doing the secretarial work is what you Rookies were made for!” He grinned, big and wide and smug as he settled himself in at the desk across from her. As partners, their desks were joined, which meant Staci’s overflowing pile of uncatered paperwork and knickknacks flooded over onto Rook’s side more often than not.

“He’s only saying that because he was on the lowest rung before you,” Joey said as she passed by, a coffee mug in hand.

Staci let out a scandalised gasp, “Hudson!”

“It’s true no matter which way you spin it, Pratt: you were fish food. Anyway, Rookie, don’t let Pratt bully you around and dump _all_ of his work on you. You’re going to be at the bottom of the food chain for a while, so make sure you fight for your rights. Staci is a complete pushover, so you probably won’t even have to try too hard.”

“Hudson, shut up - I am _not_ a pushover, I am an _alpha male_ , you hear me?”

“Whatever you say, Staci. ‘Alpha male’ my ass, even your name is effeminate.”

“It is twenty-fucking-eighteen, Joey Hudson and those kinds of comments are completely inappropriate! I subscribe to a more modern, well adjusted form of manhood and I’m perfectly comfortable with my masculinity, feminine name or otherwise!” He took a deep breath in, “Also, Staci is a gender-neutral name so _there_!”

Joey took a long, slow sip of her coffee, her eyes boring into Staci until he shuffled in discomfort.

“How long have you been practising that spiel for?”

“Longer than I’m ever going to admit to.”

Joey grinned and moved off towards her desk, shaking her head all the way.

“Seriously though,” Staci said as he finally turned back to look at Rook, a goofy grin on his face, “You were a God-send when you came in. I was stuck as Rookie for over two years before you showed up.”

“Is the Hope County Department really that unpopular?” 

Rook hadn’t _heard_ of any ill-rumours about the place. And Earl had always been so proud of it, the scant few times they called one another over the years after her parent’s untimely death. But then again, Earl always had a certain bias towards Hope County, so it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise if the place had some… quirks.

“Not unpopular, it’s more… quiet? We don’t have much going on, as you’ve probably seen. A whole month and the biggest thing that happened was someone was overspeeding, what, ten above? The only problem here is it’s boring as all fuck.”

“Still. Isn’t there a local police academy you guys can get fresh graduates from or something?”

“Rook, there are barely seven thousand people in Hope County, our little department of fifteen is more than enough to look after the whole place. Some would even say we’re _overstaffed_ if you can believe it.”

“Somehow that doesn’t sound right.”

Staci shrugged easily, “You don’t have to believe it, it just is what it is.”

“We’ve got a disturbance call,” Nancy called.

“Ugh,” Staci groaned aloud, his smile dropping as he scrubbed a hand down his face, “Don’t tell me, it’s the-”

“The Seeds again, yes,” Nancy replied with a shake of her head, “They’re flying their plane down real close. Got Pastor Jerome up in arms.”

Staci dropped his hand from his face and turned his wheely chair around to grin over at Hudson, who was a desk away, hiding her face behind some paperwork, “Hudson! Time to cash in that favour you owed me.”

“I don’t owe you any favours, Pratt.”

“So your nephew’s birthday party last week never happened?”

Nancy cleared her throat forcefully, “Can someone just accept the job already? Emergency wants a time.”

“Hudson,” Staci sang, his voice saccharine sweet.

“Pratt,” Joey spat right back.

“Will one of you _just_ -”

“Hudson, _really_ , you’re not even going to keep your promises?”

“Fine!” Joey growled, slamming her hands down on her desk, startling her partner, who had been busy typing away on her phone. “Gonzalez, put that phone away. We’ve got work to do.”

Staci smiled like the cat that got the cream as he settled into his chair, Hudson grumbling under her breath as she rummaged around to get her things in order - her partner, Gonzalez, rushing to help her.

“What was that about?” Rook asked once Joey and her partner were out of ear-shot.

“What? Oh, the Seeds are this family of four in the Valley. Live in a massive ranch and cause a bunch of problems for everyone. Assholes, all of them. But harmless for the most part. Have this weird ‘Family’ thing goin' on - real cultish if you ask me. Anyway, we hate dealing with them. They’re so condescending, God. And one of them was a lawyer so he won’t let you breathe.”

“Shouldn’t we be more worried if they’ve got some ‘cult’ going on?”

“Nah, like I said, they’re mostly harmless. Worst things they did were bar fights and gun complaints. Whitehorse normally deals with them cause he’s the only one they ever seem to listen to. But it never lasts long.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about them?”

Staci stretched out on his chair. He scratched at his growing stubble as he hummed.

“They have their phases. They cause a ruckus, we go in, tell ‘em to quiet down and they do for a bit. And then they get antsy and start up again. This was probably actually their longest period of quiet. I had to go and tell off one of the brothers for noise complaints about his guns the day before you showed up, in fact.”

“The number of people with guns in this County - it’s insane.”

Staci nodded, “I thought so too when I first got here. I came from California, so it was a bit of culture shock when I saw literally everyone here was packing heat. But, with the wildlife being how it is, it’s no surprise everyone has to carry some protection. Jesus, the cougars alone are _vicious_.”

Rook noticed the smile creeping on the edges of his lips and narrowed her eyes at him. She was starting to pick up certain tells. And knew this one meant he had some awful joke up his sleeve.

“The animals too.”

Rook dropped her face into her hand, “You’re so embarrassing.”

“How dare you talk to your superior officer like that, Probie?” Staci said with absolutely no heat, that dumb smile on his face, “Finish all that paperwork this instant or I’m forcing meter-maid duty on you for the rest of the week.”

She rolled her eyes, no wonder Joey was done with his shit. It certainly was amusing though, when he didn’t skiv from his duties.

“, I already have, no thanks to you. _Two_ , you don’t even have that kind of authority, Staci. At least brush up on what you can do before you throw your weight around like that.”

“I’ve got Whitehorse’s ear, Rookie. I’ll tell him you said his moustache was weird. Just you wait, you’ll be stuck under the blazing Montana sun writing out parking tickets for the Drubman’s and _then_ you’ll be sorry.”

His imagination was a sight to behold.

“You do know he wouldn’t believe you? Right?”

“You wanna bet?”

“It’d be your word against mine, Staci. And I’m fairly confident whose side he’d pick.”

He laughed like some awful cartoon villain, forcing a laugh from her as well, “Oh, ohhh, Rook, babe, that kind of overconfidence will be your undoing.”

**~ * ~**

Staci and Rook were en route to investigate a report of fire and screaming near a trailer park by the Henbane River. What they found, thirty minutes after heading out, was a pantless Charlemagne Victor Boshaw, screaming along to some 80’s disco music as he used what looked to be a homemade flamethrower on some unfortunate sand-bag targets.

“What the fuck are you doing, Boshaw?” Staci asked conversationally after the pyromaniac lowered his flamethrower and kindly turned his music off.

“Officer Pratt! Looking good, my dude. You been working out? Crossfit? HIT? Maybe you’re on that new Keto diet that’s all the rage. Yo, Dr Berg, man - he changed my cousin’s life. Honestly, she’s a changed woman. The amount of kale she eats, you’d think she’s competing with-”

“Boshaw. Focus. Where are your pants?”

“Well, you see, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I am not currently in possession of my pants.”

“And _what_ would these unforeseen circumstances be?” 

The exasperation in Staci’s voice led Rook to believe this wasn’t, in fact, the first time he was having this sort conversation with Charlemagne. She bit back a smile at the ridiculousness of the situation and schooled her face into a stern mask, befitting her status as an officer upholding the peace.

“That’s a long story, dude - I mean Officer.”

Staci crossed his arms, “We’ve got all day.”

“If I put my pants back on, can you not tell Cheryl?”

“No, Boshaw. I’m definitely telling your parole officer you were torching sandbags pant-less. Again.”

“That’s really not cool, dude. Like, really not cool. I thought we were buds.”

“I can’t imagine which of our past interactions would lead you to believe we were buds, Boshaw. I really can’t.”

“You called me pal.”

“I never called you pal.”

“I remember, you totally called me pal. Don’t gaslight me dude, that’s really abusive.”

Staci pinched the bridge of his nose and grabbed his walkie talkie, radioing Nancy in to tell her the situation. Charlemagne went to put his pants back on and Rook found it really was difficult not to burst into laughter. When Staci was done and Nancy had said her piece, he gave her a funny look.

“Why is your face screwed up like that, Probie?”

“Does this happen a lot?” She asked instead.

“More than I’d like. We’ve got to wait around for a bit until his PO shows up and then we can head back.”

“Why does he need a parole officer?”

Staci grinned as he settled down on the hood of their car. Charlemagne was busy unhooking all the wires to his massive music setup.

“If I started to list all of his offences, we’d be here all day. Long story short: nothing overtly malicious and mostly just him dicking around. Boshaw is as harmless as they come. His relatives, the Drubman’s are about as coo-coo as he is, but they’re also fine.”

“For a county with such few people, they’ve all got a few screws loose.”

Staci slammed the bonnet with his hand, an excited look on his face, “I thought the exact same thing when I first showed up here! And it’s always the most ridiculous shit, I swear to God. California had its fair share of crime. It was always theft or assault or _normal_ crimes, you know? Hope County? I’ve had to arrest people for the dumbest crimes - stuff I didn't even know you _could_ do.”

Rook wanted to know more about the ridiculous crimes Hope County’s residents ended up committing but a car rumbled in then, cutting her off. A haggard looking officer got out then and flashed Staci a tired look. Staci nudged his chin in Charlemagne’s direction and the officer headed towards him.

“Really, Sharky?” The woman asked as she grabbed a pair of handcuffs and motioned for him to hold his hands forward.

“I told Officer Pratt not to tell you, but he went and did it anyway.”

“Because you keep violating your parole parameters, Sharky, and if you do it _one more time_ , you’re going back to jail.”

Cheryl, because who else could it be, led Sharky towards her car.

“I still refute that charge, Cheryl. They didn’t have any dirt on me.”

“Sharky, we caught you naked, piss drunk and burning a house down. The only one who doesn’t remember is _you_ because you were so intoxicated you could barely stand straight.”

‘Sharky’ nodded sagely, “That actually does sound like something I’d do, but since I don’t recall any of it, I shouldn’t be held accountable.”

“That’s not how the law works, Sharky.”

“Maybe no, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree. Isn’t this the land of the free? If I’m not allowed to run around naked doing what I feel like, I don’t exactly feel ‘free’.”

“Oh my God, Sharky, please not this again.” Cheryl sounded like she was at the end of a very short rope. 

She helped him into the back and closed the door before walking towards them.

“Thanks, Pratt. I was starting to panic when I couldn’t find him in his cabin. I swear, he pretends to be dumb as shit but he’s one crafty son of a bitch. Smart as a fox and slippery as a weasel.”

“I’m glad I could help out. You have a good day now, Cheryl.”

With Cheryl gone and a potential threat of a forest fire averted, Staci and Rook got back into their car and headed back towards the precinct.

Their car rumbled along the well worn roads, the windows down to let the Spring breeze and noises of the wildlife all around them filter in. Rook had known the slogans and the basic description of Montana, but actually living in it was a whole different story. 

Heaven on Earth, where the mountains touched the sky - it sounded a lot more apt with the beautiful, ever-green forests and fast, clean rivers that snaked all around them. The wildlife only helped, rabbits and deer and even the occasional skunk scuttling here and there, prancing about and calling to one another. Birds of all kinds singing and twittering without a care. 

Rook had never experienced this much nature before, had never realised just how wonderful it could be.

“So, it seems you met the first resident of Hope County with a few marbles too less.”

“You said they were harmless. That guy was torching a bunch of very human-looking sandbags.”

“I said _mostly_ harmless. And Boshaw wouldn’t hurt anyone. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Hopefully.” Staci amended, shooting her a confident smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharky is my soul animal  
> He can be so irritating sometimes, especially when he torches animals I'm trying to hunt but I love him so much.  
> He is best boi.


	3. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy!

“Staci,” Hudson called from her desk, “Get off your ass and give me the papers already, damn it.”

Staci rolled his eyes theatrically, “I’m bringing, I’m _bringing_ them. Sheesh.” He leaned over his outdated PC unit and towards Rook, “Mind helping me look for them, Rookie? I, uh, may have misplaced them. It’ll be written for a ‘Faith Seed’.”

Rook raised a brow at that, a small frown edging its way onto her face. Still, she pushed away from her desk and strode around towards his. Despite being in his mid-twenties, Staci acted like a hopeless teenager and thought it was endearing. It was funny, especially when his problems didn’t affect Rook, but it certainly wasn’t _cute_. 

“Why is Rook heading towards your desk?” Hudson asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.

Rook ignored them both as she got to work routing through Staci’s mess of a desk. Papers and loose sheets battled for space that half-used pens and crumpled styrofoam cups hadn’t already conquered. Compared to her immaculate desk, Staci Pratt’s looked like a warzone with no definitive victor. It was also a troubling insight into Staci’s psyche, one Rook hadn’t been prepared to look into.

“Cause I asked her for a lap dance - what do _you_ think, Joey? She’s helping me look for them.”

“If you lost those papers, Pratt, I swear to God-”

“I didn’t lose shit.”

“Staci, I _need_ those papers for this stupid report! You promised you’d look after them and return them when I needed them. This is the _third_ time you’ve done this!”

“Oh my God, I said I’ll _give_ them to you! Just wait!”

“Anything particularly important about these papers?” Rook asked as she gingerly dislodged a file from a precarious tower of papers stacked far higher than they physically should have been able to.

Did Staci play Jenga with his documents? It was impossible to be this disorganised.

“Those Seeds are causing a ruckus again,” Joey replied with a sigh, rubbing at her eyes, “Mary-May insists that shit is getting real shady down where they are and keeps having us haul ass there only to find nothing conclusive. I’m getting real tired of all of this. Faith Seed’s the newest one - accused of making people huff some weird plant.”

“These Seeds seem to cause a lot of trouble.”

Staci shrugged inelegantly as he balanced a plastic cup on a stack of folders in one hand and rummaged around in his bulging desk drawer with the other. 

“A whole lot. Started off with the locals complaining that they were buying off a lot of land - all legally, mind you - which isn’t even an offense, but people can be really annoying. Then it turned into minor stuff like noise complaints, “suspicious behaviour”, one or two brawls or allegations towards animal abuse.”

Rook paused her search momentarily.

“Those don’t exactly _sound_ like minor infringements. Especially for a small place like this.”

“The allegations were dropped and noise complaints are probably one of the most common offenses reported in Hope County.” Joey gave a mirthless laugh, “Jesus, if you ever meet the Drubmans or that Boshaw guy, my suggestion is to pack a pair of earplugs.”

“I met Boshaw.”

“Then you probably already know how bat-shit crazy the people here can be. They’ve all got _some_ record, or _some_ allegations against them but it’s never anything sinister - the Seeds included. They’re all just annoying as hell. And unfortunately or otherwise, you can’t jail someone just for that.” Hudson muttered under her breath, “Even if a certain Hurk Senior _deserves_ it.”

“But the Seeds don’t have minor-”

“Fount it!” Staci sang, waving a sizable folder in the air.

“Finally. Hand it over, Pratt. This is the last time I let _you_ borrow any of my sheets again.”

“Oh, come on, Hudson,” Staci grinned as he got up to hand the folder over to her, “It’s not like you did much to get this. You pushed a coupla buttons and printed some pages, whoop-de-doo.”

Hudson snatched the file out of his hands and did a quick scan of its contents. 

“And if you ever printed anything yourself, you’d know how much of a pain in the ass it is to use that hunk of junk.”

“It’s only ‘cause the printer can smell your fear, Hudson. Show it who’s boss and it won’t mess with you.”

Hudson flipped the file shut and sent him a nasty look, “Get out of my space, Pratt. I’m about done with your bullshit right now.”

Staci sniggered and returned to his desk, “Your lips say “no”, but your heart says “yes”.”

“You are a nuisance, a public menace and I’d happily pull extra shifts for the rest of my career if Whitehorse would just kick you off the force.”

Staci just threw his head back and laughed at Joey’s open hostility.

Rook shook her head and settled back into her uncomfortable, rolly-chair. She had known them for over a month now and already came to expect these sort of rancourase interactions between them. According to Whitehorse, they had this sort of weird relationship formed entirely on back-handed compliments and hollow threats from the absolute get-go. It’s not like Rook didn’t understand these sorts of friendships - she had a few that were similar enough over the years - but the _tenacity_ with which they went at it. 

As if they were actors putting on a show for no one’s benefit but their own.

Maybe it was their way of passing the time - Hope County wasn’t exactly bursting with activity and filing backlog got a bit mind-numbing when you did it for longer than thirty minutes. Rook was sure she was going to resort to the same sorts of small excitements to keep her sane soon enough. 

Staci would probably be open to a verbal attack from two fronts. Joey might even be amiable to sharing some of her favourite insults and effective threats. They could turn into a game, have some sort of point system set up.

Rook was typing on autopilot, the motions robotic as she mechanically input the information from the paper in front of her into the computer while her mind went on other tangents. Staci and Joey were still talking to one another, a fluid stream of banter to keep morale high. It added to the symphony of sounds that Rook so deeply associated with the precinct.

Telephones went off, officers chattered amongst themselves, keyboards clicked away, clothes shuffled and chairs squeaked, feet tapped against the smooth, linoleum floor. The Hope County Sheriff's Department was half the size of any of the precincts that her father had worked in, but it had just as much soul. And now that Rook was a part of it, she saw more of it.

“Look alive, people.”

Rook turned to watch as Sheriff Earl Whitehorse exited his office and strode towards the middle of the bull-pen, his fingers in the looped around his utility belt. His hat was missing and the shiny, balding part of his head reflected the harsh white light, casting his face in a dark shadow. Or, perhaps it wasn’t because of the light at all - his expression was a frightening one.

He looked nothing like the jovial man she now called her boss.

“I just received word that a Federal Marshal will be joining us at the end of this week,” Earl moved his gaze across the room, skipping right past Rook, “He has a warrant for an arrest and he requests our cooperation. And we will give him our full support. Who has weekend duty this month?”

Staci and Joey raised their arms.

“The Probie and me,” Staci said.

“Gonzalez and I do too - but she’s sick, so it’ll probably just be me.”

Earl eyed Joey and Staci for a long moment before nodding. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. It wasn’t by accident, Rook realised.

“Meet me in my office on Saturday morning so I can properly debrief you. The Marshal will be arriving around noon the same day and we can hash out any details.”

“Sheriff, who is the warrant out for?”

Rook wasn’t sure exactly who asked the question. It sounded like Nancy.

“Classified for now, Nance. I don’t know myself. These Federal types like to play like they’re above the law.”

A round of scoffs and murmurs of dissidence echoed how the other officers felt about that. Whitehorse raised a hand. Silence fell. 

“Now, now. We are going to show the Marshal all the respect he is due. I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour so we can show him some real, Montana hospitality.”

The answering chorus weren’t enthusiastic, but Earl Whitehorse was already heading towards his office with little care for their reaction. He had delivered the message and now it was their headache.

“Who do you think the warrant could be out for?” Joey hiss-whispered over at them. It was a question that many of the other officers were asking all around them. Harsh murmurs and quiet speculations.

“Maybe one of the Drubmans,” Staci mused, “Old man Drubman threatened to shoot me once just cause I was on his property without a warrant. That old bastard definitely has a few skeletons in his closet he didn’t bury properly. What about you two? Who do you think it could be?”

Joey thought for a moment while Rook shrugged, “I don’t think I know the people well enough to be able to guess like that.”

“Actually, my money's on one of the Seeds. Maybe all of them.”

“What?” Staci shook his head, “No way. If they haven’t been charged with anything for _six years_ , I doubt anything is going to happen all of a sudden.”

“I can’t explain it - it’s a gut feeling.”

“You guys did say they have a lot of allegations against them, maybe one of them stuck,” Rook supplied, typing away.

Office gossip, how far had she fallen? Too bad it was so much fun.

Joey snapped her fingers, “Exactly! The Feds have got methods we can’t legally employ after all. Maybe they _made_ something stick.”

Staci didn’t look convinced.

“I dunno. I think it’s someone else. The Seeds have a ton of money and influence - and they’re using it in Hope County. I doubt they’re infringing on much.” Staci added as a dry aside, “Expect maybe Drubman Senior’s delicate sensibilities.”

“Wanna bet?”

He met Joey’s expectant look with a crooked smile.

“Fine. Ten says it isn’t them.”

“Ten? What kinda kiddie bets do you put down? Hike it up. _Fifty_ says it’s one of the Seeds.”

“ _Fifty_? Jesus, how much cash do you make, Hudson? Then make it more specific. Which Seed is it going to be?”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Fifty doesn’t grow on trees.”

“Then you have to be specific as well.”

“Fine.”

Hudson held her hand out, “Fifty says it’s John Seed. Bastard probably has some dirt from his Atlanta days.”

Staci clasped it, “Fifty says it’s Hurk Drubman Senior because I hate him and I just really hope he finally gets thrown into some max security prison so I never have to see his face again.”

They shook once.

And then somehow dissolved into an hour long debate over why their ‘champion’ was more evil that resulted in no real outcome and a low-level headache to set just behind Rook’s left eye.

**~ * ~**

Early on Saturday morning, Staci came to pick her up from her temporary dorm. Even though the precinct was a short, twenty minute walk, Staci insisted. Said he wanted to have a quick ‘talk’ before they reached the precinct and other people stuck their noses into matters that didn’t concern them. ‘Other people’ being quite obviously Joey Hudson.

He had been acting strange all week - snappish, skittish, anxious. If Rook could get to the bottom of it before they went on their big arrest, perfect.

“Well?” Rook asked as she sipped the cup of coffee he had bought for her, “What did you want to talk about?”

It was a chilled hazelnut latte. It was nice - not the best, but certainly not the worst she had ever had. Most importantly, it was free.

“How are you feeling about the Fed coming over this weekend?”

He was jittery. His fingers kept drumming against the steering wheel and the foot on hovering over the accelerator kept bouncing by the footrest. This was the most nervous Rook had ever seen Staci, worse even than the time he had accidentally eaten Joey’s yoghurt cup and she had launched a precinct-wide hunt for it.

“I don’t know,” Rook said slowly, eyeing him as he drove around her block for the third time, “How should I feel?”

“What, like you aren’t the least bit excited, worried, _scared_?” He flashed her a too-big smile.

“Not really. Why? Are you?”

Staci nodded his head quickly, “Hell yeah, I’m excited. Most interesting thing that’s happened the whole time I’ve been here.”

“It’s just an arrest, same as any other.”

“Yeah, by the _Federal Authorities_. Whoever it is, they fucked up. Big time.”

“Then maybe we should feel apprehensive. Can’t be because of anything good.”

“You’re such a spoil-sport, Rook. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Right. What’s the real reason you wanted to talk?’

“What?” He shot her a confused look before turning back to look at the road. “What do you mean? That was the real reason.”

“You could have asked me this question at the precinct. What’s wrong, Staci? You don’t normally buy me coffees and take me on trips around my own block.”

Stacis’ grip on the steering wheel tightened. He bit his lip and moved the car to park it by the side of the road. He turned the engine off. Seems like they were going to be there a while - so long as they didn’t run late, Rook didn’t mind a temporary detour.

He took a deep breath in to steel himself before he whispered, “I don’t know if this arrest will go well.”

Okay. So Staci was just nervous, Rook could work with that. 

“And why is that?”

“I’ve been seeing bad omens all around this whole week.”

And Rook was done.

Still, Staci looked spooked, and it wouldn’t exactly be polite to shrug him off after he seemed to want to properly open up (and plied her with free coffee), so Rook decided to indulge him as long as she could stand to.

“What kind of omens?” She asked, not unkindly.

“When Whitehorse told us about the arrest it was a Monday, right? Well, on Monday night, just before I went to sleep I opened my windows as wide as they could, okay, and I’ve got the type that sorta open like doors,” he mimicked pushing a window open wide, “And I swear to God an owl landed on the window just before I fell asleep, hooted three _fuckin’_ times and then left. I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.”

Rook wanted to tell Staci that owls hooted. Of course they hooted, that was kinda their _thing_. She didn’t, instead she let him gather his wits, clench his hands into white-knuckled fists and continue. Rook hoped they reached the precinct on time. 

“On Tuesday, Rook, someone came by my house in the morning and knocked on the door three times. When I went to check, they were gone. Like there hadn’t been anyone and I remember how distinct the knocking was. Do you know what this _means_?”

It meant a kid was playing a prank. A modified version of ‘ding-dong-ditch’ and three knocks were sure to get Staci’s attention. But he was on a roll and didn't stop to let her interject. Rook wished she hadn’t let his bribery work and just laughed when she had the chance. 

“On Wednesday, Rook, my clock broke. You wanna know what time?” She had a feeling he’d tell her regardless, “ _Three thirty-three_! Might as well tattoo ‘fucked’ on our foreheads!”

“Wait, wait, why is three thirty-three bad?”

“Haven’t you seen _any_ horror movies? Three threes are the devil’s number! It’s the Mark of the Beast!”

Rook had had about enough. Staci was just being ridiculous now. But still, she was going to persevere for as long as her stamina lasted because they were partners and something told her it was taking a lot for him to openly admit his fears.

“I think you’re just nervous about the arrest and you’re looking for trouble where there isn’t any.”

“No - no, Rook, you aren’t _listening_ to me! Do you know what date was on Friday?”

She sighed loudly.

“No,” she intoned, taking a loud sip of her coffee, “What date was it?”

“It was Friday the thirteenth, Rook. That’s the unluckiest day like - _ever_!”

“First,” She held up her index finger, “that’s three _sixes_ , Staci, that are the Mark of the Beast.” She held up a second finger, “Two, that was Friday and today is _Saturday_ so it doesn't even _matter_.” She held up her ring finger, “Three, the number four is unlucky in some East Asian cultures; it doesn’t mean there’s a problem with a number or a _date_. Get it together, Pratt.”

Staci met her eyes and for the first time since the day she met him over a month back, he looked deadly serious. His eyes didn’t waver. They held hers, unblinking, his mouth turned down into a nervous frown, his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Rook, I’m serious. Fine, forget all the scary crap I’ve been seeing and experiencing. I’ve got a feeling - in my gut, Rook - that if we go through with this arrest, we may not make it back out alive.”

He wanted her to believe him. It was why he had wanted to talk to her in private. But even if she did believe him, what then? It wasn’t like they could avoid their duty, their responsibility. Staci was scared and that was okay, it was perfectly normal to be nervous. Rook was a bit antsy herself. But why he thought Rook could provide a solution where there wasn’t one, well…

“We’re going to be fine, Staci.”

He groaned aloud, smacking his hands against the steering wheel, “Ugh, you’re not-”

Rook raised her hand to quiet his protests, “We’re going to be _fine_ , Staci. Because we are going to go in, get the job done and get out, okay? We won’t linger and we won’t attract any danger to ourselves. In and out, quick and clean.”

Staci looked away, seemed forlorn almost, that she wouldn’t take what he was saying more seriously. But it didn’t matter if Rook did or not. She wasn’t sure how she should explain that there literally was no alternative.

Rook couldn’t use her words. Instead, she reached out and clasped his shoulder, squeezing it. He gave her a weary glance, but when he saw that her expression was a kind one, he slowly let his guard down again.

He wasn’t back to his usual, annoying self, but he wasn’t an anxious mess. That wouldn’t go away until they executed the arrest successfully and then she could tease him all about it. For now, she decided to distract him.

“I heard talk that we might be able to take the helicopter. Is there anyone who can legally fly one in the precinct?”

“Yeah,” Staci said as he turned the car back on to finish the final lap around her block before they headed towards the precinct, “Hudson and I both know how to.”

“You can pilot a helicopter?”

He snorted, “You sound surprised.”

“Of course I do. You’re not exactly what I’d call ‘accomplished’ when you need me to get most of your shit sorted out for you.”

“Yes, I _can_ pilot a helicopter, thank you very much. You’ll find I am a man of many talents. And those talents come at the cost of being unable to manage normal, daily tasks. Like printing. And filing. It’s a perfectly normal tradeoff.”

Rook rolled her eyes, and mumbled, “God give me the confidence of this man.”

“Ha! It isn’t confidence, Probie, it’s pure skill-”

“Deer!”

“Shit!”

**~ * ~**

It was near deafening inside the chopper. True to his word, Staci and Hudson were in the front, operating the vehicle as they were the only ones who had the proper licences. Rook considered, as the Marshal and Whitehorse talked about the case, how she could twist Staci’s arm into teaching her how to pilot one.

He had given her a run down off all the important buttons before they left, but there were _so many buttons_ and having an angry Federal Marshal barking down your neck wasn’t exactly conducive to a productive learning environment. Rook was fairly sure she could get the bird into the air, probably, but not much else.

The Marshal was showing Whitehorse some video about the Seeds. Intel they had gathered from testimonials. Murder, theft, vandalism, torture, kidnapping, forced conversion, the Seed Family’s list of felonies was longer than Staci’s entire Chinese takeout order.

Rook recalled how, only a few weeks back, Staci had called the family _harmless_.

The group they were about to face didn’t seem harmless.

Rook was antsy. It was her first big hunt in a long, long time. Her blood sang and her nerves thrummed and her skin tightened to the point it border on painful. Every sense was on high alert, adrenaline pumping through her veins. This was what she had been craving. The exhilaration. The adrenaline rush. _This_ was the kind of police work she had always dreamed of doing. That she had foolishly once tried doing herself.

Whitehorse passed the tablet over to her and she watched them too. Rook recognised some of the people, their names. Mary-May, Pastor Jerome. Some guy called Nick Rye. She listened to what they had to say, watched the secret camera recordings (her belly flipped uncomfortably when she saw how effortlessly Joseph Seed plunged a man’s eyes into his skull, how gruesomely, how unaffected he stood, with a man’s blood quite literally on his hands), she heard what the Marshal had to say about the group.

Eden’s Gate. 

Project of Eden’s Gate. 

_Peggies_. 

The word rolled off the tongue with uncomfortable ease.

Surely it wasn’t that bad. Rook had done rounds of the county with Staci. She met some of the people. They were a bit… extreme. But they were in Montana and people in tiny communities had that about them. She bet more than half the people she had met owned doomsday shelters that weren’t from the 50’s and 60’s.

And then they passed by a massive statue of Joseph Seed, and Rook began to wonder just how out of their depth they really were.

The helicopter landed, Whitehorse gave her a quiet instruction to keep close and keep quiet. Staci’s fears and his omens, it seemed, weren’t absolute nonsense. They hadn’t taken the Seed family and their Peggies quite as seriously as they should have.

There was shouting and hollering and a thirst for their blood as soon as their feet touched the ground. Vicious attack dogs tugged at their leads, spittle flying from their mouths, jaws lined with razor sharp teeth itching to sink into their flesh. Peggies, all shapes and sizes and forms and backgrounds, glared down at their small group of four as they traversed the marked huts and cottages. Mean and shifty, all of them. 

Rook’s skin crawled and she struggled to keep her composure. She saw Joey was as well.

“You aren’t welcome here!”

“Get out!”

“The Father has done nothing wrong!”

“Leave!”

Their words and screams and the barking and the palpable anger - it compounded and built and loaded up until the pressure was almost visible. Rook felt like a bottle of soda had been shaken far too hard. And something was about to explode.

The church was somehow even worse.

The musky smell of incense. The sharp odor of recently snuffed candles. The waxy tang of lit ones. The feelings of human fear and human anger - so tangible you could taste it, bitter and acidic, in the back of your tongue.

Rook couldn’t breathe as she stood there. 

The air was too thick. The Peggies that passed by her - ignoring every word from them but obeying one hushed command from their Father - the heavy looks they sent her chilled her to her very core. They did not belong. And nothing was going to convince Rook otherwise.

Standing in that church, four hollowed, hallowed, grim faces staring down at her with scrutiny and judgement. Rook was a child again. A child that had swum too far into the deep end and was struggling to stay afloat. The water lapped at her, trying to drag her under. It was getting harder to resist.

Her hands shook. She gripped her utility belt tighter, hoping no one would see. Rook had stared down the barrel of a gun once before and she thought that was the most frightened she had ever been. This trumped that.

The ‘Father’ said his bit, called out Whitehorse and dubbed her “Hell” (which was a far more flattering nickname than some of the other ones she had accrued over the years). The Marshal spat his back. 

The three heralds of death drew closer behind Joseph Seed when the order came to arrest him. Whitehorse held his hands out and implored Rook not to.

“Let’s all just calm down. Marshal, Joseph. Please. Rook, stand down for a moment.”

Rook remained where she was. Rooted to the spot. 

“Arrest this son of a bitch!” The Marshal roared, glaring at Rook as if _she_ was the one protesting.

“God will not let you take me,” Joseph said, voice soft and calm.

It carried through the church with far more effectiveness than the Marshal’s spittle-full vitriol did.

Rook, unsure what else to do, took a small step forward.

“Rook, _Eleanor_ \- just stop, for a moment.”

One of the men behind Joseph Seed, the brown haired one, gasped quietly. A pregnant silence settled over the church as all four of the Seeds looked her dead in the eye.

“Eleanor Rook,” Joseph murmured softly. 

Rook paused, not sure how to respond. This wasn’t part of the handbook on how to deal with perps. None of this was.

“Er,” she answered, “Yes?”

“Stop _talking_ to him and arrest this son of a bitch, Rookie! That is an order!”

“Marshal, stand down!”

Joseph Seed’s eyes seemed to soften impossibly behind his yellow-tinted visors. The brown haired man took an aborted step forward, only to be stopped by the large, red hair mountain of a man. The girl didn’t seem to understand the tension and was as clueless as Rook was about what was happening.

“Eleanor,” Joseph murmured, “sometimes the best thing to do is to just _walk away_.”

Rook stopped in her tracks. The Marshal and Whitehorse were yelling at the top of their voices - conflicting orders and threats flying with little rhyme or reason. But Rook wasn’t listening to them. Couldn’t listen to them over the beating of her heart right in her ear drums.

Something about the three men that stood before her wasn’t - it wasn’t right. No, that wasn’t it. She recognised them. But she couldn’t remember where. Or when. It wasn’t deja vu, it was something else.

“Eleanor,” The brown haired one said, blue eyes wide with desperation and something else - bright despite the gloom in the church, “Walk away, _please_.”

Rook crinkled her nose, her eyebrows furrowing as she stared at them in unabashed confusion. They spoke her name with such familiarity it was jarring. And she had only ever read theirs from a file. She hadn’t met them before though, she was _sure_ she hadn’t. Rook would have remembered them if she did. 

They weren’t exactly your normal group with tattoos and carved skin. The red haired one especially had half his face covered in burn scars - that wasn’t a feature you just _forgot_. They were all fairly attractive too, even in the darkness, with their too-blue eyes and appealing features. The girl was pretty, but not like them. She was pretty in a waifish, elfen sort of way with the flowers in her clothes and the lace in her dress and her sharper eyes and rounded nose.

The prayer beads wrapped around Joseph Seed’s hand tinkled as they knocked against one another. The distant barking of the dogs and the quiet fluttering flicker of the candles competed with the deafening drumbeat of her heart. Joseph Seed and his siblings - their unnerving, thousand-pound stares bored into her. 

No one spoke.

No one breathed.

“Put those fucking handcuffs on him right now, Rookie, or so help me I will make it so you can’t even find a job flipping burgers!”

The silence was broken and Rook jerked into action. Whitehorse had taken a step back, defeated. 

Rook was left with only one option.

Joseph Seed’s skin was warm beneath her touch as she secured the handcuffs around him. He did not resist her, didn’t in any way hinder her. Just let those heavy, yellow-tinted eyes peer into her soul. Until all her sins and virtues were laid bare before him.

“Eleanor,” the brown haired one murmured, voice cracking.

“It’s probably not even her,” the red haired mountain man mumbled softly. 

Two sets of piercing blue eyes bored into Rook’s back as she put one hand gently on Joseph’s bare shoulder - careful not to brush against the raised flesh of his self-inflicted scars - and began to lead him away, following after Whitehorse and the Marshal.

“It is her, brother. She came back to us. Like Joseph said she would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so: 1. The idea of Staci being an absolute dolt came from some NPC mentioning how much of a douche he could be and I had to make him a sort of lovable douche cause I do really like him and he isn't an ass-hat, he's just annoying. 2. The idea of Staci being incredibly superstitious and believing in omens and stuff from other cultures was incredibly appealing and does it even count as foreshadowing when I make it not-very-subtle? And 3. The Church scene was one of the very first scenes I had written for this story and where this entire story was essentially birthed.
> 
> I hope you guys had fun with this second part and I also hope you enjoyed Staci and Joey as much as I did writing them. There were some elements of Joey's I decided to just... not consider because I wasn't sure how to cohesively fit it in here (*cough* Danny, her old partner, getting turned into Swiss Cheese by probably some Peggies in their dumb trucks *cough*) but I may be able to later. Who knows. I don't.
> 
> I'll have the third part up soon, hopefully and that's where the fun _really_ begins and I know I keep saying that but I swear this time it will!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you guys think? I said it before and I'll say it again, I hate first chapters. They're too much pressure. And considering I decided to make this into three parts instead of dumping them all into one fic, I have to write three first chapters. But splitting it into three parts had been the suggestion of my best friend, sometimes editor, most of the times beta reader (though she was neither of them for this series) to split them into three so it would be easier on you guys to keep track. The downside is three. First. Chapters.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy ed- this won't be as long as the first part was, I just want to flesh out her relationship with Staci and Joey because you get almost none of that in the game and it's criminal considering how fun they could be as characters.


End file.
